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Such Is The Influence Which The Condition Of Our Own Thoughts, Exercises, Even Over The Appearance Of External Objects. Men Who Look On Nature, And Their Fellow-men, And Cry That All Is Dark And Gloomy, Are In The Right; But The Sombre Colours Are Reflections From Their Own Jaundiced Eyes And Hearts. The Real Hues Are Delicate, And Need A Clearer Vision.

-Charles Dickens

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Such Is The Influence

Charles Dickens

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Such Is The Influence Which The Condition Of Our Own Thoughts, Exercises, Even Over The Appearance Of External Objects. Men Who Look On Nature, And Their Fellow-men, And Cry That All Is Dark And Gloomy, Are In The Right; But The Sombre Colours Are Reflections From Their Own Jaundiced Eyes And Hearts. The Real Hues Are Delicate, And Need A Clearer Vision.

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A Wonderful Fact To Reflect Upon, That Every Human Creature Is Constituted To Be That Profound Secret And Mystery To Every Other. A Solemn Consideration, When I Enter A Great City By Night, That Every One Of Those Darkly Clustered Houses Encloses Its Own Secret; That Every Room In Every One Of Them Encloses Its Own Secret; That Every Beating Heart In The Hundreds Of Thousands Of Breasts There, Is, In Some Of Its Imaginings, A Secret To The Heart Nearest It!

Do Not Close Your Heart Against All My Efforts To Help You.

But The Words She Spoke Of Mrs Harris, Lambs Could Not Forgive ... Nor Worms Forget.

She Was The Most Wonderful Woman For Prowling About The House. How She Got From One Story To Another Was A Mystery Beyond Solution. A Lady So Decorous In Herself, And So Highly Connected, Was Not To Be Suspected Of Dropping Over The Banisters Or Sliding Down Them, Yet Her Extraordinary Facility Of Locomotion Suggested The Wild Idea.

"drink With Me, My Dear," Said Mr. Weller. "put Your Lips To This Here Tumbler, And Then I Can Kiss You By Deputy."

The Clouds Were Drifting Over The Moon At Their Giddiest Speed, At One Time Wholly Obscuring Her, At Another, Suffering Her To Burst Forth In Full Splendor And Shed Her Light On All The Objects Around; Anon, Driving Over Her Again, With Increased Velocity, And Shrouding Everything In Darkness.

The Young Woman Who Brought Me Acquainted With Captain Murderer Had A Fiendish Enjoyment Of My Terrors, And Used To Begin, I Remember - As A Sort Of Introductory Overture - By Clawing The Air With Both Hands, And Uttering A Long Low Hollow Groan. So Acutely Did I Suffer From This Ceremony In Combination With This Infernal Captain, That I Sometimes Used To Plead I Thought I Was Hardly Strong Enough And Old Enough To Hear The Story Again Just Yet.

'mind And Matter,' Said The Lady In The Wig, 'glide Swift Into The Vortex If Immensity. Howls The Sublime, And Softly Sleeps The Calm Ideal, In The Whispering Chambers Of Imagination.'

My Life Is One Demd Horrid Grind.

Eccentricities Of Genius.

She Had Gained A Reputation For Beauty, And (which Is Often Another Thing) Was Beautiful.

The Heavy Rain Beat Down The Tender Branches Of Vine And Jessamine, And Trampled On Them In Its Fury; And When The Lightning Gleamed, It Showed The Tearful Leaves Shivering And Cowering Together At The Window, And Tapping At It Urgently, As If Beseeching To Be Sheltered From The Dismal Night.

'i Believe, Mr. Snitchey,' Said Alfred, 'there Are Quiet Victories And Struggles, Great Sacrifices Of Self, And Noble Acts Of Heroism, In It - Even In Many Of Its Apparent Lightnesses And Contradictions - Not The Less Difficult To Achieve, Because They Have No Earthly Chronicle Or Audience - Done Every Day In Nooks And Corners, And In Little Households, And In Men's And Women's Hearts - Any One Of Which Might Reconcile The Sternest Man To Such A World, And Fill Him With Belief And Hope In It.

As I Never Saw My Father Or My Mother, And Never Saw Any Likeness Of Either Of Them (for Their Days Were Long Before The Days Of Photographs), My First Fancies Regarding What They Were Like, Were Unreasonably Derived From Their Tombstones. The Shape Of The Letters On My Father's, Gave Me An Odd Idea That He Was A Square, Stout, Dark Man, With Curly Black Hair. From The Character And Turn Of The Inscription, "also Georgiana Wife Of The Above", I Drew A Childish Conclusion That My Mother Was Freckled And Sickly.

The Great Commander, Who Seemed By Expression Of His Visage To Be Always On The Look-out For Something In The Extremest Distance, And To Have No Ocular Knowledge Of Anything Within Ten Miles, Made No Reply Whatever.

The Whole Difference Between Construction And Creation Is Exactly This: That A Thing Constructed Can Only Be Loved After It Is Constructed; But A Thing Created Is Loved Before It Exists.

In This Way They Went On, And On, And On-in The Language Of The Story-books-until At Last The Village Lights Appeared Before Them, And The Church Spire Cast A Long Reflection On The Graveyard Grass; As If It Were A Dial (alas, The Truest In The World!) Marking, Whatever Light Shone Out Of Heaven, The Flight Of Days And Weeks And Years, By Some New Shadow On That Solemn Ground.

Opening Her Eyes Again, And Seeing Her Husband's Face Across The Table, She Leaned Forward To Give It A Pat On The Cheek, And Sat Down To Supper, Declaring It To Be The Best Face In The World.

The Day Was Made For Laziness, And Lying On One's Back In Green Places, And Staring At The Sky Till Its Brightness Forced One To Shut One's Eyes And Go To Sleep.

There Is Probably A Smell Of Roasted Chestnuts And Other Good Comfortable Things All The Time, For We Are Telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, Or More Shame For Us - Round The Christmas Fire; And We Have Never Stirred, Except To Draw A Little Nearer To It.

The Great Grindstone, Earth, Had Turned When Mr. Lorry Looked Out Again, And The Sun Was Red On The Courtyard. But, The Lesser Grindstone Stood Alone There In The Calm Morning Air, With Red Upon It That The Sun Had Never Give, And Would Never Take Away.

... I Have Read In Your Face, As Plain As If It Was A Book, That But For Some Trouble And Sorrow We Should Never Know Half The Good There Is About Us.

Day Was Breaking At Plashwater Weir Mill Lock. Stars Were Yet Visible, But There Was Dull Light In The East That Was Not The Light Of Night. The Moon Had Gone Down, And A Mist Crept Along The Banks Of The River, Seen Through Which The Trees Were The Ghosts Of Trees, And The Water Was The Ghost Of Water. This Earth Looked Spectral, And So Did The Pale Stars: While The Cold Eastern Glare, Expressionless As To Heat Or Colour, With The Eye Of The Firmament Quenched, Might Have Been Likened To The Stare Of The Dead.

Old Mr. Rarx Was Not A Pleasant Man To Look At, Nor Yet To Talk To, Or To Be With, For No One Could Help Seeing That He Was A Sordid And Selfish Character, And That He Had Warped Further And Further Out Of The Straight With Time.

I Was So Humiliated, Hurt, Spurned, Offended, Angry, Sorry--i Cannot Hit Upon The Right Name For The Smart--god Knows What Its Name Was--that Tears Started To My Eyes.

It Being A Part Of Mrs. Pipchin's System Not To Encourage A Child's Mind To Develop And Expand Itself Like A Young Flower, But To Open It By Force Like An Oyster.

If The Parks Be "the Lungs Of London" We Wonder What Greenwich Fair Is--a Periodical Breaking Out, We Suppose--a Sort Of Spring Rash.

To Have A Cricket On The Hearth Is The Luckiest Thing In All The World!

He Was Drunk Upon The Average Once A Day, And Penitent Upon An Equally Fair Calculation Once A Month; And When He Was Penitent, He Was Invariably In The Very Last Stage Of Maudlin Intoxication. He Was A Ragged, Roving, Roaring Kind Of Fellow, With A Burly Form, A Sharp Wit, And A Ready Head, And Could Turn His Hand To Anything When He Chose To Do It.

Prowling About The Rooms, Sitting Down, Getting Up, Stirring The Fire, Looking Out The Window, Teasing My Hair, Sitting Down To Write, Writing Nothing, Writing Something And Tearing It Up...

Virtue Shows Quite As Well In Rags And Patches As She Does In Purple And Fine Linen.

But, Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble's Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof.

Loves And Cupids Took To Flight Afraid, And Martyrdom Had No Such Torment In Its Painted History Of Suffering.

Spite Is A Little Word, But It Represents As Strange A Jumble Of Feelings And Compound Of Discords, As Any Polysyllable In The Language.

Anything For The Quick Life, As The Man Said When He Took The Situation At The Lighthouse.

It Is When Our Budding Hopes Are Nipped Beyond Recovery By Some Rough Wind, That We Are The Most Disposed To Picture To Ourselves What Flowers They Might Have Borne, If They Had Flourished . . .

Now, I Return To This Young Fellow. And The Communication I Have Got To Make Is, That He Has Great Expectations.

It's My Old Girl That Advises. She Has The Head. But I Never Own To It Before Her. Discipline Must Be Maintained.

On Summer Evenings, When Every Flower, And Tree, And Bird, Might Have Better Addressed My Soft Young Heart, I Have In My Day Been Caught In The Palm Of A Female Hand By The Crown, Have Been Violently Scrubbed From The Neck To The Roots Of The Hair As A Purification For The Temple, And Have Then Been Carried Off Highly Charged With Saponaceous Electricity, To Be Steamed Like A Potato In The Unventilated Breath Of The Powerful Boanerges Boiler And His Congregation, Until What Small Mind I Had, Was Quite Steamed Out Of Me

... When He Saw Her Sitting There All Alone, So Young, And Good, And Beautiful, And Kind To Him; And Heard Her Thrilling Voice, So Natural And Sweet, And Such A Golden Link Between Him And All His Life's Love And Happiness, Rising Out Of The Silence; He Turned His Face Away, And Hid His Tears.

Never Close Your Lips To Those Whom You Have Already Opened Your Heart.

I Never Thought Before, That There Was A Woman In The World Who Could Affect Me So Much By Saying So Little. But Don't Be Hard In Your Construction Of Me. You Don't Know What My State Of Mind Towards You Is. You Don't Know How You Haunt And Bewilder Me. You Don't Know How The Cursed Carelessness That Is Over-officious In Helping Me At Every Other Turning Of My Life Won't Help Me Here. You Have Struck It Dead, I Think, And I Sometimes Wish You Had Struck Me Dead Along With It.

I Think The Romans Must Have Aggravated One Another Very Much, With Their Noses. Perhaps, They Became The Restless People They Were, In Consequence.

The Memories Which Peaceful Country Scenes Call Up, Are Not Of This World, Nor Of Its Thoughts And Hopes. Their Gentle Influence May Teach Us How To Weave Fresh Garlands For The Graves Of Those We Loved: May Purify Our Thoughts, And Bear Down Before It Old Enmity And Hatred; But Beneath All This, There Lingers, In The Least Reflective Mind, A Vague And Half-formed Consciousness Of Having Held Such Feelings Long Before, In Some Remote And Distant Time, Which Calls Up Solemn Thoughts Of Distant Times To Come, And Bends Down Pride And Worldliness Beneath It.

The Town Was Glad With Morning Light; Places That Had Shown Ugly And Distrustful All Night Long, Now Wore A Smile; And Sparkling Sunbeams Dancing On Chamber Windows, And Twinkling Through Blind And Curtain Before Sleepers’ Eyes, Shed Light Even Into Dreams, And Chased Away The Shadows Of The Night.

I Don't Feel Any Vulgar Gratitude To You[for Helping Me]. I Almost Feel As If You Ought To Be Grateful To Me, For Giving You The Opportunity Of Enjoying The Luxury Of Generosity. . . I May Have Come Into The World Expressly For The Purpose Of Increasing Your Stock Of Happiness. I May Have Been Born To Be A Benefactor To You, By Giving You An Opportunity Of Assisting Me.

She Had Curiously Thoughtful And Attentive Eyes; Eyes That Were Very Pretty And Very Good.

Great Expectations

If You Can't Get To Be Oncommon Through Going Straight, You'll Never Get To Do It Through Going Crooked. So Don't Tell No More On 'em, Pip, And Live Well And Die Happy.

A Wonderful Fact To Reflect Upon, That Every Human Creature Is Constituted To Be That Profound Secret And Mystery To Every Other.

Reflecting Upon

"i Fear Your Kind And Open Communication, Which Has Rendered Me More Painfully Conscious Of My Own Defects, Has Not Improved Me," Sighed Kate.

Mr. Cruncher... Always Spoke Of The Year Of Our Lord As Anna Dominoes: Apparently Under The Impression That The Christian Era Dated From The Invention Of A Popular Game, By A Lady Who Had Bestowed Her Name Upon It.

Why Am I Always At War With Myself? Why Have I Told, As If Upon Compulsion, What I Knew All Along I Ought To Have Withheld? Why Am I Making A Friend Of This Woman Beside Me, In Spite Of The Whispers Against Her That I Hear In My Heart?

I Should Never Have Made My Success In Life If I Had Not Bestowed Upon The Least Thing I Have Ever Undertaken The Same Attention And Care That I Have Bestowed Upon The Greatest.

Success In Life

There Was Something Very Comfortable In Having Plenty Of Stationery.

I Don't Like That Sort Of School... Where The Bright Childish Imagination Is Utterly Discouraged... Where I Have Never Seen Among The Pupils, Whether Boys Or Girls, Anything But Little Parrots And Small Calculating Machines.

The Most Important Thing In Life Is To Stop Saying 'i Wish' And Start Saying 'i Will.' Consider Nothing Impossible, Then Treat Possibilities As Probabilities.

There Is A Sunday Conscience As Well As A Sunday Coat; And Those Who Make Religion A Secondary Concern Put The Coat And Conscience Carefully By To Put On Only Once A Week.

Ah, Miss Harriet, It Would Do Us No Harm To Remember Oftener Than We Do, That Vices Are Sometimes Only Virtues Carried To Excess!

If They Would Rather Die, . . . They Had Better Do It, And Decrease The Surplus Population.

Christmas Carol

They Don't Mind It: Its A Reg'lar Holiday To Them - All Porter And Skittles.

Poetry Makes Life What Lights And Music Do The Stage.

There Are Only Two Styles Of Portrait Painting; The Serious And The Smirk.

I Wish You To Know That You Have Been The Last Dream Of My Soul...since I Knew You, I Have Been Troubled By A Remorse That I Thought Would Never Reproach Me Again, And Have Heard Whispers From Old Voices Impelling Me Upward, That I Thought Were Silent For Ever. I Have Had Unformed Ideas Of Striving Afresh, Beginning Anew, Shaking Off Sloth And Sensuality, And Fighting Out The Abandoned Fight. A Dream, All A Dream, That Ends In Nothing, And Leaves The Sleeper Where He Lay Down, But I Wish You To Know That You Inspired It.

The Wind Is Rushing After Us, And The Clouds Are Flying After Us, And The Moon Is Plunging After Us, And The Whole Wild Night Is In Pursuit Of Us; But, So Far We Are Pursued By Nothing Else.

Shall We Speak Of The Inspiration Of A Poet Or A Priest, And Not Of The Heart Impelled By Love And Self-devotion To The Lowliest Work In The Lowliest Way Of Life?

Perhaps Second-hand Cares, Like Second-hand Clothes, Come Easily Off And On.

The Forces That Affect Our Lives, The Influences That Mold And Shape Us, Are Often Like Whispers In A Different Room, Teasingly Indistinct, Apprehended Only With Difficulty.

There Was A Long Hard Time When I Kept Far From Me The Remembrance Of What I Had Thrown Away When I Was Quite Ignorant Of Its Worth.

In A Utilitarian Age, Of All Other Times, It Is A Matter Of Grave Importance That Fairy Tales Should Be Respected.

I Had Seen The Damp Lying On The Outside Of My Little Window, As If Some Goblin Had Been Crying There All Night, And Using The Window For A Pocket-handkerchief.

Don't You Think That Any Secret Course Is An Unworthy One?

Words Of Wisdom

'tis Love That Makes The World Go Round, My Baby.

I Distress You; I Draw Fast To An End.

It Is An Old Prerogative Of Kings To Govern Everything But Their Passions.

"a Child!" Said Edith, Looking At Her. "when Was I A Child? What Childhood Did You Ever Leave To Me? I Was A Woman - Artful, Designing, Mercenary, Laying Snares For Men - Before I Knew Myself, Or You, Or Even Understood The Base And Wretched Aim Of Every New Display I Learnt. You Gave Birth To A Woman. Look Upon Her. She Is In Her Pride Tonight."

There Are Dark Shadows On The Earth, But Its Lights Are Stronger In The Contrast. Some Men, Like Bats Or Owls, Have Better Eyes For The Darkness Than For The Light. We, Who Have No Such Optical Powers, Are Better Pleased To Take Our Last Parting Look At The Visionary Companions Of Many Solitary Hours, When The Brief Sunshine Of The World Is Blazing Full Upon Them.

I Was Always Treated As If I Had Insisted On Being Born, In Opposition To The Dictates Of Reason, Religion, And Morality, And Against The Dissuadinig Arguments Of My Best Friends.

Circumstances May Accumulate So Strongly Even Against An Innocent Man, That Directed, Sharpened, And Pointed, They May Slay Him.

Words Of Wisdom

Huge Knots Of Sea-weed Hung Upon The Jagged And Pointed Stones, Trembling In Every Breath Of Wind; And The Green Ivy Clung Mournfully Round The Dark And Ruined Battlements. Behind It Rose The Ancient Castle, Its Towers Roofless, And Its Massive Walls Crumbling Away, But Telling Us Proudly Of Its Own Might And Strength, As When, Seven Hundred Years Ago, It Rang With The Clash Of Arms, Or Resounded With The Noise Of Feasting And Revelry.

All I Would Say Is, That I Can Go Abroad Without Your Family Coming Forward To Favour Me, - In Short, With A Parting Shove Of Their Cold Shoulders; And That, Upon The Whole, I Would Rather Leave England With Such Impetus As I Possess, Than Derive Any Acceleration Of It From That Quarter.

…a Lady Of What Is Commonly Called An Uncertain Temper --a Phrase Which Being Interpreted Signifies A Temper Tolerably Certain To Make Everybody More Or Less Uncomfortable.

I Feel An Earnest And Humble Desire, And Shall Do Till I Die, To Increase The Stock Of Harmless Cheerfulness.

When The Wind Is Blowing And The Sleet Or Rain Is Driving Against The Dark Windows, I Love To Sit By The Fire, Thinking Of What I Have Read In Books Of Voyage And Travel.

I Had Considered How The Things That Never Happen, Are Often As Much Realities To Us, In Their Effects, As Those That Are Accomplished.

Words Of Wisdom

A Silent Look Of Affection And Regard When All Other Eyes Are Turned Coldly Away-the Consciousness That We Possess The Sympathy And Affection Of One Being When All Others Have Deserted Us-is A Hold, A Stay, A Comfort, In The Deepest Affliction, Which No Wealth Could Purchase, Or Power Bestow.

"it's An Old Habit Of Mine, Wal'r," Said The Captain, "any Time These Fifty Year. When You See Ned Cuttle Bite His Nails, Wal'r, Then You May Know That Ned Cuttle's Aground."

If A Pig Could Give His Mind To Anything, He Would Not Be A Pig.

"ah, Miss, Hope Is An Excellent Thing For Such As Has The Spirits To Bear It!" Said Mrs Wickam, Shaking Her Head. "my Own Spirits Is Not Equal To It, But I Don't Owe It Any Grudge. I Envys Them That Is So Blest!"

It's Not Put Into His Head To Be Buried. It's Put Into His Head To Be Made Useful. You Hold Your Life On The Condition That To The Last You Shall Struggle Hard For It. Every Man Holds A Discovery On The Same Terms.

All The Housemaid Hopes Is, Happiness For 'em - But Marriage Is A Lottery, And The More She Thinks About It, The More She Feels The Independence And The Safety Of A Single Life.

The Cramped Monotony Of My Existence Grinds Me Away By The Grain.

Minds, Like Bodies, Will Often Fall Into A Pimpled, Ill-conditioned State From Mere Excess Of Comfort.

It Was The Momentary Yielding Of A Nature That Had Been Disappointed From The Dawn Of Its Perceptions, But Had Not Quite Given Up All Its Hopeful Yearnings Yet.

Love, However, Is Very Materially Assisted By A Warm And Active Imagination: Which Has A Long Memory, And Will Thrive, For A Considerable Time, On Very Slight And Sparing Food.

Break Their Hearts My Pride And Hope, Break Their Hearts And Have No Mercy. -miss Havisham

Old Marley Was As Dead As A Doornail. Mind! I Don't Mean To Say That, Of My Own Knowledge, What There Is Particularly Dead About A Doornail. I Might Have Been Inclined, Myself, To Regard A Coffin-nail As The Deadest Piece Of Ironmongery In The Trade. But The Wisdom Of Our Ancestors Is In The Simile; And My Unhallowed Hands Shall Not Disturb It, Or The Country's Done For. You Will Therefore Permit Me To Repeat, Emphatically, That Marley Was As Dead As A Doornail.

We Were Equals Afterwards, As We Had Been Before; But, Afterwards At Quiet Times When I Sat Looking At Joe And Thinking About Him, I Had A New Sensation Of Feeling Conscious That I Was Looking Up To Joe In My Heart.

If I May Ride With You, Citizen Evremonde, Will You Let Me Hold Your Hand? I Am Not Afraid, But I Am Little And Weak, And It Will Give Me More Courage." As The Patient Eyes Were Lifted To His Face, He Saw A Sudden Doubt In Them, And Then Astonishment. He Pressed The Work-worn, Hunger-worn Young Fingers, And Touched His Lips. "are You Dying For Him?" She Whispered. "and His Wife And Child. Hush! Yes." "oh, You Will Let Me Hold Your Brave Hand, Stranger?" "hush! Yes, My Poor Sister; To The Last.

[s]he Stood For Some Moments Gazing At The Sisters, With Affection Beaming In One Eye, And Calculation Shining Out Of The Other.

I Cannot Help It; Reason Has Nothing To Do With It; I Love Her Against Reason-but Who Would As Soon Love Me For My Own Sake, As She Would Love The Beggar At The Corner.

One Great Blemish In The Popular Mind Of America And The Prolific Parent Of An Innumerable Brood Of Evils, Is Universal Distrust . . . You No Sooner Set Up An Idol Firmly, Than You Are Sure To Pull It Down And Dash It Into Fragments: And This Because Directly You Reward A Benefactor, Or A Public Servant, You Distrust Him, Merely Because He Is Rewarded . . . . Any Man Who Attains A High Place Among You, From The President Downwards, May Date His Downfall From That Moment.

He Went To Church, And Walked About The Streets, And Watched The People Hurrying To And Fro, And Patted Children On The Head, And Questioned Beggars, And Looked Down Into The Kitchens Of Houses, And Up To The Windows; And Found That Everything Could Yield Him Pleasure. He Had Never Dreamed That Any Walk — That Anything — Could Give Him So Much Happiness.

If I May So Express It, I Was Steeped In Dora. I Was Not Merely Over Head And Ears In Love With Her, But I Was Saturated Through And Through. Enough Love Might Have Been Wrung Out Of Me, Metaphorically Speaking, To Drown Anybody In; And Yet There Would Have Remained Enough Within Me, And All Over Me, To Pervade My Entire Existence.

I Only Ask To Be Free. The Butterflies Are Free.

We Came To The House, And It Is An Old House, Full Of Great Chimneys Where Wood Is Burnt On Ancient Dogs Upon The Hearth, And Grim Portraits (some Of Them With Grim Legends, Too) Lower Distrustfully From The Oaken Panels Of The Walls.

To See The Butcher Slap The Steak Before He Laid It On The Block, And Give His Knife A Sharpening, Was To Forget Breakfast Instantly. It Was Agreeable Too - It Really Was - To See Him Cut It Off So Smooth And Juicy. There Was Nothing Savage In The Act, Although The Knife Was Large And Keen; It Was A Piece Of Art, High Art; There Was Delicacy Of Touch, Clearness Of Tone, Skilful Handling Of The Subject, Fine Shading. It Was The Triumph Of Mind Over Matter; Quite.

Mr. Tulkinghorn, Sitting In The Twilight By The Open Window, Enjoys His Wine. As If It Whispered To Him Of Its Fifty Years Of Silence And Seclusion, It Shuts Him Up The Closer. More Impenetrable Than Ever, He Sits, And Drinks, And Mellows As It Were In Secrecy, Pondering At That Twilight Hour On All The Mysteries He Knows.

In Love Of Home, The Love Of Country Has Its Rise.

"hope, You See, Wal'r," Said The Captain, Sagely, "hope. It's That As Animates You. Hope Is A Buoy, For Which You Overhaul Your Little Warbler, Sentimental Diwision, But Lord, My Lad, Like Any Other Buoy, It Only Floats; It Can't Be Steered Nowhere. Along With The Figure-head Of Hope,' Said The Captain, 'there's A Anchor; But What's The Good Of My Having A Anchor, If I Can't Find No Bottom To Let It Go In?"

Mr Jarndyce, And Prevented His Going Any Farther, When He Had Remarked That There Were Two Classes Of Charitable People: One, The People Who Did A Little And Made A Great Deal Of Noise; The Other, The People Who Did A Great Deal And Made No Noise At All.

Friendless I Can Never Be, For All Mankind Are My Kindred, And I Am On Ill Terms With No One Member Of My Great Family.

It Is Not Possible To Know How Far The Influence Of Any Amiable, Honest-hearted Duty-doing Man Flies Out Into The World, But It Is Very Possible To Know How It Has Touched One's Self In Going By.

It Was Darkly Rumoured That The Butler, Regarding Him With Favour Such As That Stern Man Had Never Shown Before To Mortal Boy, Had Sometimes Mingled Porter With His Table Beer To Make Him Strong.

There Once Was A Child, And He Strolled About A Good Deal, And Thought Of A Number Of Things. He Had A Sister, Who Was A Child Too, And His Constant Companion. These Two Used To Wonder All Day Long. They Wondered At The Beauty Of The Flowers; They Wondered At The Height And Blueness Of The Sky; They Wondered At The Depth Of The Bright Water; They Wondered At The Goodness And The Power Of God Who Made The Lovely World.

A Demd, Damp, Moist, Unpleasant Body!

All Partings Foreshadow The Great Final One.

If Ever Household Affections And Loves Are Graceful Things, They Are Graceful In The Poor. The Ties That Bind The Wealthy And The Proud To Home May Be Forged On Earth, But Those Which Link The Poor Man To His Humble Hearth Are Of The True Metal And Bear The Stamp Of Heaven.

Little Red Riding Hood Was My First Love. I Felt That If I Could Have Married Little Red Riding Hood, I Should Have Known Perfect Bliss.

An Observer Of Men Who Finds Himself Steadily Repelled By Some Apparently Trifling Thing In A Stranger Is Right To Give It Great Weight. It May Be The Clue To The Whole Mystery. A Hair Or Two Will Show Where A Lion Is Hidden. A Very Little Key Will Open A Very Heavy Door.

I See A Beautiful City And A Brilliant People Rising From This Abyss. I See The Lives For Which I Lay Down My Life, Peaceful, Useful, Prosperous And Happy. I See That I Hold A Sanctuary In Their Hearts, And In The Hearts Of Their Descendants, Generations Hence. It Is A Far, Far Better Thing That I Do, Than I Have Ever Done; It Is A Far, Far Better Rest That I Go To Than I Have Ever Known.

Cows Are My Passion. What I Have Ever Sighed For Has Been To Retreat To A Swiss Farm, And Live Entirely Surrounded By Cows - And China.

There Have Been Occasions In My Later Life (i Suppose As In Most Lives) When I Have Felt For A Time As If A Thick Curtain Had Fallen On All Its Interest And Romance, To Shut Me Out From Anything Save Dull Endurance Any More. Never Has That Curtain Dropped So Heavy And Blank, As When My Way In Life Lay Stretched Out Straight Before Me Through The Newly-entered Road Of Apprenticeship To Joe.

The Nephew Revenges Himself For This, By Holding His Breath And Terrifying His Kinswoman With The Dread Belief That He Has Made Up His Mind To Burst. Regardless Of Whispers And Shakes, He Swells And Becomes Discoloured, And Yet Again Swells And Becomes Discoloured, Until The Aunt Can Bear It No Longer, But Leads Him Out, With No Visible Neck, And With His Eyes Going Before Him Like A Prawn's.

And It Is Not A Slight Thing When They, Who Are So Fresh From God, Love Us.

A Dangerous Quality, If Real; And A Not Less Dangerous One, If Feigned.

Words Of Wisdom

I Never Could Have Done What I Have Done Without The Habits Of Punctuality, Order, And Diligence, Without The Determination To Concentrate Myself On One Subject At A Time.

I Only Ask To Be Free. The Butterflies Are Free. Mankind Will Surely Not Deny To Harold Skimpole What It Concedes To The Butterflies.

Blackened Skeleton Arms Of Wood By The Wayside Pointed Upward To The Convent, As If The Ghosts Of Former Travellers, Overwhelmed By The Snow, Haunted The Scene Of Their Distress. Icicle-hung Caves And Cellars Built For Refuges From Sudden Storms, Were Like So Many Whispers Of The Perils Of The Place; Never-resting Wreaths And Mazes Of Mist Wandered About, Hunted By A Moaning Wind; And Snow, The Besetting Danger Of The Mountain, Against Which All Its Defences Were Taken, Drifted Sharply Down.

The Word Of A Gentleman Is As Good As His Bond — Sometimes Better; As In The Present Case, Where His Bond Might Prove But A Doubtful Sort Of Security.

Fledgeby Deserved Mr. Alfred Lammle's Eulogium. He Was The Meanest Cur Existing, With A Single Pair Of Legs. And Instinct (a Word We All Clearly Understand) Going Largely On Four Legs, And Reason Always On Two, Meanness On Four Legs Never Attains The Perfection Of Meanness On Two.

Life Is Made Of Ever So Many Partings Welded Together.

It Is A Long Time,' Repeated His Wife; 'and When Is It Not A Long Time? Vengeance And Retribution Require A Long Time; It Is The Rule.' 'it Does Not Take A Long Time To Strike A Man With Lightning,' Said Defarge. 'how Long,' Demanded Madame, Composedly, 'does It Take To Make And Store The Lightning? Tell Me?

" ... It Is Not My Desire To Wound The Feelings Of Any Person With Whom I Am Connected In Family Bonds. I May Be A Hypocrite," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Cuttingly, "but I Am Not A Brute."

Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

It Is Because I Think So Much Of Warm And Sensitive Hearts, That I Would Spare Them From Being Wounded.

There Wasn't Room To Swing A Cat There.

Your Sex Have Such A Surprising Animosity Against One Another, When You Do Differ.

Dreams Are The Bright Creatures Of Poem And Legend, Who Sport On Earth In The Night Season, And Melt Away In The First Beam Of The Sun, Which Lights Grim Care And Stern Reality On Their Daily Pilgrimage Through The World.

But Tears Were Not The Things To Find Their Way To Mr. Bumble’s Soul; His Heart Was Waterproof. Like Washable Beaver Hats That Improve With Rain, His Nerves Were Rendered Stouter And More Vigorous, By Showers Of Tears, Which, Being Tokens Of Weakness, And So Far Tacit Admissions Of His Own Power, Pleased And Exalted Him.

It Will Be Your Duty, And It Will Be Your Pleasure Too To Estimate Her (as You Chose Her) By The Qualities That She Has, And Not By The Qualities She May Not Have.

His Gaze Wandered From The Windows To The Stars, As If He Would Have Read In Them Something That Was Hidden From Him. Many Of Us Would, If We Could; But None Of Us So Much As Know Our Letters In The Stars Yet - Or Seem Likely To Do It, In This State Of Existence - And Few Languages Can Be Read Until Their Alphabets Are Mastered.

There Are Not A Few Among The Disciples Of Charity Who Require, In Their Vocation, Scarcely Less Excitement Than The Votaries Of Pleasure In Theirs.

Now, What I Want Is Facts. Teach These Boys And Girls Nothing But Facts. Facts Alone Are Wanted In Life. Plant Nothing Else, And Root Out Everything Else. You Can Only Form The Minds Of Reasoning Animals Upon Facts; Nothing Else Will Ever Be Of Any Service To Them.

... Waiter! Raw Beef-steak For The Gentleman's Eye,-nothing Like Raw Beef-steak For A Bruise, Sir; Cold Lamp-post Very Good, But Lamp-post Inconvenient-damned Odd Standing In The Open Street Half-an-hour, With Your Eye Against A Lamp.

"mine Ain't A Selfish Affection, You Know," Said Mr. Toots, In The Confidence Engendered By His Having Been A Witness Of The Captain's Tenderness. "it's The Sort Of Thing With Me, Captain Gills, That If I Could Be Run Over - Or - Or Trampled Upon - Or - Or Thrown Off A Very High Place -or Anything Of That Sort - For Miss Dombey's Sake, It Would Be The Most Delightful Thing That Could Happen To Me."

The Northern Onslaught Upon Slavery Was No More Than A Piece Of Specious Humbug Designed To Conceal Its Desire For Economic Control Of The Southern States.

Accidentally Consumed Five Biscuits When I Wasn't Paying Attention. Those Biscuits Are Wily Fellows - They Leap In Like Sugary Ninjas

I Am At The Moment Deaf In The Ears, Hoarse In The Throat, Red In The Nose, Green In The Gills, Damp In The Eyes, Twitchy In The Joints And Fractious In Temper From A Most Intolerable And Oppressive Cold.

Cheerfulness And Contentment Are Great Beautifiers, And Are Famous Preservers Of Good Looks.

You Should Know," Said Estella. "i Am What You Have Made Me. Take All The Praise, Take All The Blame; Take All The Success, Take All The Failure; In Short, Take Me.

There Is A Drowsy State, Between Sleeping And Waking, When You Dream More In Five Minutes With Your Eyes Half Open, And Yourself Half Conscious Of Everything That Is Passing Around You, Than You Would In Five Nights With Your Eyes Fast Closed, And Your Senses Wrapt In Perfect Unconsciousness. At Such Time, A Mortal Knows Just Enough Of What His Mind Is Doing, To Form Some Glimmering Conception Of Its Mighty Powers, Its Bounding From Earth And Spurning Time And Space, When Freed From The Restraint Of Its Corporeal Associate.

Of All The Ruinous And Desolate Places My Uncle Had Ever Beheld, This Was The Most So. It Looked As If It Had Once Been A Large House Of Entertainment; But The Roof Had Fallen In, In Many Places, And The Stairs Were Steep, Rugged, And Broken. There Was A Huge Fire-place In The Room Into Which They Walked, And The Chimney Was Blackened With Smoke; But No Warm Blaze Lighted It Up Now. The White Feathery Dust Of Burnt Wood Was Still Strewed Over The Hearth, But The Stove Was Cold, And All Was Dark And Gloomy.

I Know Nothing Of Philosophical Philanthropy. But I Know What I Have Seen, And What I Have Looked In The Face In This World Here, Where I Find Myself. And I Tell You This, My Friend, That There Are People (men And Women Both, Unfortunately) Who Have No Good In Them-none. That There Are People Whom It Is Necessary To Detest Without Compromise. That There Are People Who Must Be Dealt With As Enemies Of The Human Race. That There Are People Who Have No Human Heart, And Who Must Be Crushed Like Savage Beasts And Cleared Out Of The Way.

Whether I Shall Turn Out To Be The Hero Of My Own Life, Or Whether That Station Will Be Held By Anybody Else, These Pages Must Show. To Begin My Life With The Beginning Of My Life, I Record That I Was Born (as I Have Been Informed And Believe) On A Friday, At Twelve O’clock At Night. It Was Remarked That The Clock Began To Strike, And I Began To Cry, Simultaneously.

And This Is The Eternal Law. For, Evil Often Stops Short At Istelf And Dies With The Doer Of It! But Good, Never.

Friendship? Yes Please.

The Dew Seemed To Sparkle More Brightly On The Green Leaves The Air To Rustle Among Them With A Sweeter Music And The Sky Itself To Look More Blue And Bright. Such Is The Influence Which The Condition Of Our Own Thoughts, Exercise, Even Over The Appearance Of External Objects.

He Lived In Chambers That Had Once Belonged To His Deceased Partner. They Were A Gloomy Suite Of Rooms, In A Lowering Pile Of Building Up A Yard, Where It Had So Little Business To Be, That One Could Scarcely Help Fancying It Must Have Run There When It Was A Young House, Playing At Hide-and-seek With Other Houses, And Forgotten The Way Out Again.

I Could Settle Down Into A State Of Equable Low Spirits, And Resign Myself To Coffee.

All Of Us Have Wonders Hidden In Our Breasts, Only Needing Circumstances To Evoke Them.

At Last, In The Dead Of The Night, When The Street Was Very Still Indeed, Little Dorrit Laid The Heavy Head Upon Her Bosom, And Soothed Her To Sleep. And Thus She Sat At The Gate, As It Were Alone; Looking Up At The Stars, And Seeing The Clouds Pass Over Them In Their Wild Flight-which Was The Dance At Little Dorrit's Party.

Whether I Shall Turn Out To Be The Hero Of My Own Life, Or Whether That Station Will Be Held By Anybody Else, These Pages Must Show.

In Every Life, No Matter How Full Or Empty Ones Purse, There Is Tragedy. It Is The One Promise Life Always Fulfills. Thus, Happiness Is A Gift, And The Trick Is Not To Expect It, But To Delight In It When It Comes, And To Add To Other Peoples Store Of It.

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times.

Nothing That We Do, Is Done In Vain. I Believe, With All My Soul, That We Shall See Triumph.

My Uncle, Gentlemen, Could Say Nothing; He Was So Very Much Astonished The Queerest Thing Of All, Was, That Although There Was Such A Crowd Of Persons, And Although Fresh Faces Were Pouring In, Every Moment, There Was No Telling Where They Came From. They Seemed To Start Up, In Some Strange Manner, From The Ground, Or The Air, And Disappear In The Same Way.

Man Is But Mortal: And There Is A Point Beyond Which Human Courage Cannot Extend. Mr. Pickwick Gazed Through His Spectacles For An Instant On The Advancing Mass, And Then Fairly Turned His Back And-we Will Not Say Fled; Firstly, Because It Is An Ignoble Term, And, Secondly, Because Mr. Pickwick's Figure Was By No Means Adapted For That Mode Of Retreat-he Trotted Away, At As Quick A Rate As His Legs Would Convey Him;.

... Arthur Gride, Whose Bleared Eyes Gloated Only Over The Outward Beauties, And Were Blind To The Spirit Which Reigned Within, Evinced - A Fantastic Kind Of Warmth Certainly, But Not Exactly That Kind Of Warmth Of Feeling Which The Contemplation Of Virtue Usually Inspires.

When She Took Her Opposite Place In The Carriage Corner, The Brightness In Her Face Was So Charming To Behold, That On Her Exclaiming, "what Beautiful Stars And What A Glorious Night!" The Secretary Said "yes," But Seemed To Prefer To See The Night And The Stars In The Light Of Her Lovely Little Countenance, To Looking Out Of Window.

It's Not My Business," Scrooge Returned. "it's Enough For A Man To Understand His Own Business, And Not To Interfere With Other People's. Mine Occupies Me Constantly.

I Think It Must Somewhere Be Written That The Virtues Of Mothers Shall Be Visited On Their Children, As Well As The Sins Of Their Fathers.

I Have Known A Vast Quantity Of Nonsense Talked About Bad Men Not Looking You In The Face. Don't Trust That Conventional Idea. Dishonesty Will Stare Honesty Out Of Countenance Any Day In The Week, If There Is Anything To Be Got By It.

It Was A Long And Gloomy Night That Gathered On Me, Haunted By The Ghosts Of Many Hopes, Of Many Dear Remembrances, Many Errors, Many Unavailing Sorrows And Regrets.

You Might, From Your Appearance, Be The Wife Of Lucifer,” Said Miss Pross, In Her Breathing. “nevertheless, You Shall Not Get The Better Of Me. I Am An Englishwoman.

The New Testament Is The Very Best Book That Ever Was Or Ever Will Be Known In The World.

I Have Heard It Said That As We Keep Our Birthdays When We Are Alive, So The Ghosts Of Dead People, Who Are Not Easy In Their Graves, Keep The Day They Died Upon.

Around And Around The House The Leaves Fall Thick, But Never Fast, For They Come Circling Down With A Dead Lightness That Is Sombre And Slow.

Change Begets Change.

Love Is Not A Feeling To Pass Away Like The Balmy Breath Of A Summer's Day....... Love Is Not A Passion Of Earthly Mould As A Thirst For Honour, Or Fame, Or Gold

Such Is Hope, Heaven's Own Gift To Struggling Mortals, Pervading, Like Some Subtle Essence From The Skies, All Things Both Good And Bad.

And Numerous Indeed Are The Hearts To Which Christmas Brings A Brief Season Of Happiness And Enjoyment.

It's Over, And Can't Be Helped, And That's One Consolation, As They Always Say In Turkey, When They Cut The Wrong Man's Head Off.

I Could Not Help Wondering In My Own Mind....how It Came To Pass That Our Joints Of Meat Were Of Such Extraordinary Shapes - And Whether Our Butcher Contracted For All The Deformed Sheep That Came Into The World; But I Kept My Reflections To Myself.

Philosophers Are Only Men In Armor After All.

Thus, It Comes To Pass, That A Certain Room In A Certain Old Hall, Where A Certain Bad Lord, Baronet, Knight, Or Gentleman, Shot Himself, Has Certain Planks In The Floor From Which The Blood Will Not Be Taken Out. You May Scrape And Scrape, As The Present Owner Has Done, Or Plane And Plane, As His Father Did, Or Scrub And Scrub, As His Grandfather Did, Or Burn And Burn With Strong Acids, As His Great-grandfather Did, But, There The Blood Will Still Be - No Redder And No Paler - No More And No Less - Always Just The Same.

Ah, If Only I Had Brought A Cigar With Me! This Would Have Established My Identity.

I Had Neither The Good Sense Nor The Good Feeling To Know That This Was All My Fault, And That If I Had Been Easier With Joe, Joe Would Have Been Easier With Me. I Felt Impatient Of Him And Out Of Temper With Him; In Which Condition He Heaped Coals Of Fire On My Head.

Words Of Wisdom

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."

I Am A Neat Hand At Cookery, And I'll Tell You What I Knocked Up For My Christmas-eve Dinner In The Library Cart. I Knocked Up A Beefsteak-pudding For One, With Two Kidneys, A Dozen Oysters, And A Couple Of Mushrooms Thrown In. It's A Pudding To Put A Man In Good Humour With Everything, Except The Two Bottom Buttons Of His Waistcoat.

Procrastination Is The Thief Of Time, Collar Him.

Procrastination

Her Contempt For Me Was So Strong, That It Became Infectious, And I Caught It.

Great Expectations

I Made A Compact With Myself That In My Person Literature Should Stand By Itself, Of Itself, And For Itself.

Up The Two Terrace Flights Of Steps The Rain Ran Wildly, And Beat At The Great Door, Like A Swift Messenger Rousing Those Within;.

... The Sun Does Not Shine Upon This Fair Earth To Meet Frowning Eyes, Depend Upon It.

"ecod, You May Say What You Like Of My Father, Then, And So I Give You Leave," Said Jonas. "i Think It's Liquid Aggravation That Circulates Through His Veins, And Not Regular Blood..."

I Took A Good Deal O' Pains With His Eddication, Sir; Let Him Run In The Streets When He Was Very Young, And Shift For Hisself. It's The Only Way To Make A Boy Sharp, Sir.

The Two Stand In The Fast-thinning Throng Of Victims, But They Speak As If They Were Alone. Eye To Eye, Voice To Voice, Hand To Hand, Heart To Heart, These Two Children Of The Universal Mother, Else So Wide Apart And Differing, Have Come Together On The Dark Highway, To Repair Home Together And To Rest In Her Bosom.

In Seasons Of Pestilence, Some Of Us Will Have A Secret Attraction To The Disease--a Terrible Passing Inclination To Die Of It.

Indeed The Worthy Housewife Was Of Such A Capricious Nature, That She Not Only Attained A Higher Pitch Of Genius Than Macbeth, In Respect Of Her Ability To Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral In An Instant, But Would Sometimes Ring The Changes Backwards And Forwards On All Possible Moods And Flights In One Short Quarter Of An Hour; Performing, As It Were, A Kind Of Triple Bob Major On The Peal Of Instruments In The Female Belfry, With A Skilfulness And Rapidity Of Execution That Astonished All Who Heard Her.

A Man Is Lucky If He Is The First Love Of A Woman. A Woman Is Lucky If She Is The Last Love Of A Man.

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